| Ah, it’s the humpty dump, truck big wheel, wall crumbler
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| If money did talk, yours probably be a mumbler
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| The bumble bee, color kush, burning in the bubble of puff
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| Brother rocks Dougie but it’s uglier on that other stuff
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| I’m saying no, weighing only about 175
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| I sound like a heavier guy but we high, so high-five
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| Behinds the nice thighs and the sun beamin'
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| Flicking on the old blue beamers, hoodie
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| And Woody Allen couldn’t see it with his glasses on
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| At homecoming getting drunker then the chaperon
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| And don’t you hate when you go into a place
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| And somebody need a I.D. |
| cause they done left at it home
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| You feel bad if you go ahead and leave 'em
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| So you try to swap it out
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| And hope the door man believe 'em
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| Yo' he payed cash, send a check to him directly
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| Or money orders, every dollar, four quarters
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| While I drive, break, shift, jump down
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| When I drive, break, shift, jump down
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| While I drive, break, shift, jump down
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| When I drive, break, shift, jump down
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| And I just touched down, pillow case sized clouds
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| Louder than that pound like your neighbors at your door
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| Dog take yo' job off the floor, meet your neighbor
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| Chuck Daly is the liveliest coach, bless his soul
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| It’s amazing though to save his kept his
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| But to see he saved that color
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| Mike rock got the range, had it flickin' last summer
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| SAAB 900 with the turbo runnin' on it
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| Gold BBS in the zone as a nexus
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| Supposed to be flexed on y’all niggas last summer
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| Chill, we ain’t have to move a muscle
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| Had a court case pending and we hit the ground runnin'
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| Get your rap together, you ain’t talkin' 'bout nothin'
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| Sure lip-sync shit and y’all ain’t talkin' 'bout none of us
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| And it’s '45 back on my number 9
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| '94 can’t touch this like it’s Hammer time
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| While I drive, break, shift, jump down
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| When I drive, break, shift, jump down
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| While I drive, break, shift, jump down
|
| When I drive, break, shift, jump down |